coffee washed in black
by IrisstoneHPfan
Summary: Emma Wheeler and Stiles Stilinski. She dreamt of something wild while he prayed for something sane. She brings him a little normal as he shows her a little insane. He's everything she wants and she's exactly what he needs. And they both take their coffee black, could it really be as perfect as it seems? (Stiles/OC takes place at the beginning of season 3A/ rating may change)


**he takes his coffee black.**

...

It started with a cup of coffee, a black cup of coffee. No cream, no sugar; just coffee.

Emma's dad had always told her that drinking black coffee built character, made a person stronger. That being said, she found it extremely fitting that her dad drinks black coffee, for not only was her father the strongest person she knew but he also had a moral compass that could rival even the holiest of saints. He was the kind of man that was raised with respect and the idea that nothing, absolutely nothing, would be handed to him. He was the kind of man that hadn't been late to work a day in his life, no matter the circumstances. In his mind hard work was necessary and things were to be done properly if they were to be done at all. It was a lesson his father had continuously forced into his brain right up until the day he died. Emma's grandfather's death was hard on her dad, not that she was there to see; he had died long before she was born. Still, she had seen old photographs, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to pick up on the changes in her father. She could tell that something had given him an edge, given him anger. He watched his dad die, and that changed him.

Her mom though, was a different story all together. She seemed to have a perfectly calculated French vanilla cream to coffee ratio and she'd worked from home her entire life. You could just see from the lines on her face that there had once been a time when smiling must have been her favorite thing to do. Now though, it was a worn out smile. Washed away by hard times and heartache. She too had lost her father, but while Emma's dad turned hard, her mom just turned sad. From what Emma could gather based on her mom's old photographs was that she had simply stopped smiling, and that was a shame because her mother had such a beautiful smile.

It was nothing unusual that they didn't agree on what a proper cup of coffee should consist of, because as a matter of fact, they rarely agreed on anything. Disagreeing was almost like second nature for the two of them, if one had an opinion, the other was bound to contradict it. Watching them was like watching a tennis match, back and forth, back and forth; sometimes you enjoy it and other times you just want to change the channel. Emma sometimes wondered how on earth they ever fell in love in the first place, much less stayed in love. She was happy for it of course, just sometimes surprised by it. Their opinions differed on every level, no matter what they were discussing. If he wanted barbeque she was in the mood for seafood, if he liked one genre of music she liked another. They always had something to say. Emma believes, in all honesty, that they would most probably make for an excellent reality TV show, and it pains her to say that because she really hates reality TV.

When it came down to choosing sides, which it usually did, Emma found herself leaning more towards her dad's opinions. Ever since she was a little girl she had this notion that her dad knew everything about everything and there was no possible way that he could be wrong about anything. She had grown up believing that his opinions were fact and his beliefs were truth. As she grew older, she never really lost that. Not in the sense that she didn't have any original thoughts or viewpoints, but more in the sense that her thoughts and viewpoints stemmed from the things she had been raised to believe.

So when during an argument Emma's parents would ask her to pick a side, it would have less to do with pleasing either one of them and more to do with what her actual opinion was. Though her mother didn't see it that way. She would take it personally, claiming that Emma was always against her. In one argument, her dad had tried to convince her mom that Supernatural was a much better show than The Walking Dead. She found herself wondering 'how couldn't I agree with that?' In her honest opinion The Walking Dead was to slow and Supernatural had Jensen Ackles, to her it just seemed like the answer was obvious. Her mother though, just rolled her eyes with a scoff and stayed in a bad mood for the rest of the night.

When it came to coffee things were no different. Emma couldn't help but to agree with her dad. Something about the idea of drinking black coffee just made her feel insanely powerful, like she was of a higher ranking than those who didn't drink it black. It was an acquired taste, that's for sure. Something she worked towards for months, years even. Morning after morning, burnt tongue after burnt tongue. She spent an ungodly amount of money on coffee filters and teeth whitening strips. There were times when she thought she would never get used to the bitter taste, but she forced it down time and time again until one day bitter wasn't so bad anymore. It was actually kind of good, comforting.

And for some strange reason, it made her dad proud of her. She had spent years trying to accomplish that. She grew up with the constant need to impress him, to be accepted by him. She played sport after sport, watched countless youtube videos about cars, really anything to make up for the fact that she was a girl and therefore unable to be the son that he always wanted. If only she had known that all she had to do in order to earn 'The Frank Wheeler Stamp of Approval' was learn to enjoy a simple cup of black coffee. She could have made things so much easier on herself, never having to of worried about broken nails or dislocated shoulders. They fell into a routine eventually. Emma would wake up an hour earlier than necessary and join her dad on the couch for a morning cup of coffee, they would flip through different sections of the newspaper and talk about things so irrelevant neither would remember what they'd discussed by the time dinner rolled around that same night. It became sort of a tradition for them, every morning like clockwork.

For this reason, Emma tended to judge people based on the way they took their coffee. She would find herself paying extra close attention to situations where coffee was involved. Her concentration would zero in on a person at the mere mention of a black coffee, like her brain had somehow become wired to do so. It was involuntary, almost instinctive. If she heard someone order a black coffee, she couldn't stop herself from smiling. It was like her mind had decided all on its own that black coffee meant instant approval and ignoring the situation was an impossibility. At first she couldn't understand why, but over time she began to think that maybe it was genetic, something her father had passed down to her.

She was sitting at a local coffee shop in the late afternoon, sipping her black coffee and working diligently on a rather difficult crossword puzzle, when a young guy sat down at the table next to hers. She glanced toward him, more out of reflex than curiosity, and instantly recognized him as somebody who went to her school. Stiles Stilinski. There were about four things she could say she knew about him with absolute certainty (_He was the Sheriffs son, He was Scott McCall's best friend, He had ADHD, he played lacrosse_.) and that was as far as her knowledge went in regards to Stiles. Though it didn't surprise her that she knew so little about him, because she knew very little about pretty much everyone.

He took a quick look at Emma, probably feeling her eyes on him, and gave a small smile accompanied by a head nod when they made eye contact. She smiled back before immediately breaking eye contact, suddenly feeling embarrassed. She knew she had probably blushed and just hoped that he had looked away just as quickly as she had. She'd never been good at running into people in public and usually ended up coming off as extremely awkward. Willing herself to avoid any further discomfort, she quickly refocused her attention on the crossword puzzle lying in front of her. She had just written down the answer for fifteen across when out of the corner of her eye she noticed Stiles motion for the waiter.

"Yeah, I'll take a black coffee." Emma's head snapped in his direction the second the order had left his mouth. An involuntary smile made its way onto her face as she mentally added _takes his coffee black _to the list of things that she knew about Stiles Stilinski.

"And how would you like that coffee?" The waiter asked, pulling a pencil and pad from his apron. Emma threw him a confused look, not even bothering to pretend like she hadn't been listening in. Stupid questions had always been one of her biggest pet peeves, and in her opinion that had been one of the stupidest she'd heard all day. He'd ordered a black coffee; he couldn't of been more straightforward if he wanted to. Stiles, Emma noticed, was wearing the same confused expression as her.

"I'm sorry, how would I like that _black _coffee?" He asked. His tone was sarcastic and a little taken aback at the same time and she could almost feel the smart ass rolling off of him. Emma didn't blame him of course; he was pretty clear-cut with his order. There was only one way you could take a black coffee, and that was black. It seemed like a simple enough request to communicate.

The waiter's smile hitched, "Yeah," he said as he furrowed his eyebrows. The expression on his face was impatient and seemed to indicate that he thought Stiles was the stupid one, but he was obviously trying to hide it behind a strained smile. Emma glanced down at his name tag; _Sean. _For a moment she considered walking up to the front counter and asking to speak to the manager. She wanted to question him about how on earth this Sean guy got a job at a coffee shop when he couldn't even comprehend what ordering a black coffee meant. She would never actually do that, of course, but she wouldn't deny that there would be a lot of satisfaction in it.

She let out an exasperated sigh and Stiles glanced in her direction for the second time. He pointed at Waiter Sean discreetly and shot her a look that very clearly conveyed 'are you hearing this guy?' Emma shook her head and snorted, that time not feeling embarrassed by their interaction.

"Well…" Stiles drawled out, pausing for a moment to glance down at Waiter Sean's name tag, "Sean. Could you put it in a cup?" The response was filled with such sarcasm and mocking that Emma couldn't help but let out a laugh. It wasn't the discreet, hands covering the mouth, try not to make any noise kind of laugh either. It was the full out, loud, obnoxious kind of laugh that almost made her feel the need to apologize.

Emma had always known that Stiles was a funny guy, sitting behind him in Mr. Harris' class had its perks. Hearing his witty commentary was the only thing that made chemistry even remotely bearable. But she'd always done the laughing in her head in those situations. But there, in Mindy's Coffee Shop, she didn't run the risk of getting a detention. Plus this time, unlike in Mr. Harris' class, where Emma was pretty sure Stiles didn't even realize she existed, he actually knew that she was listening in.

He seemed proud of himself when she laughed, as if he'd just done something of great credit. Sean, on the other hand, seemed less than pleased. He sent her a glare that conveyed exactly how amusing he found the situation, not very. At that, Emma looked away quickly, pretending to go back to her crossword puzzle. Though she was, of course, still listening in.

"What I mean is, would you like any cream or sugar with that?" He asked through clenched teeth, no longer trying to keep a smile. The bite in his voice was more than evident and it took all the will power that Emma possessed not to start laughing again.

Stiles let his head fall into his hands and let out a long, drawn-out sigh, "Is it black cream?" he asked and this time she did laughed again, although more reserved than before. Emma found herself, once again, sharing a look with Stiles, one in which they both smiled.

There moment was interrupted by a confused, and still exceedingly angry, Sean, "Um, no." He shook his head while he spoke, "Why would it be-"

Before he could finish Stiles held up his hand, signaling for him to stop talking, "Never mind, okay. Never mind. Just bring me coffee, all right. Black coffee. No cream, no sugar, just coffee."

Sean brought his pencil down to the pad he held, though before he actually took down the order, he seemed to rethink himself and looked up at Stiles once more with a confused expression, "So let me get this straight. Just coffee, black, nothing in it?"

"Oh my God!" Stiles practically screamed, causing even Emma to jump, although his reaction was completely justified in her opinion, "Yes, okay, yes. Black freaking coffee. Black-idy black black with a side of black. And make that extra black," By that point Sean had started to walk away, wearing a scowl so deep that one would think he had spent his entire life being unhappy. Still, Stiles kept at it, "Don't forget to add the back," he yelled after him, "You know what? Just close your eyes and use that as a reference."

Emma snorted again and Stiles snapped his head in her direction, his face contorted into a look of guilt, "That was probably a little excessive, yeah?"

"Just a bit," Emma said, bringing up her thumb and pointer finger in indication, "but completely justified." She added, wanting to milk the conversation for all she could. She was trying not to outwardly show it but she was really happy that Stiles was talking to her. She hadn't made any friends since she had moved to Beacon Hills, and that was a year ago. She had moved into town at the same time as that Allison girl had and for some reason she was the only one anybody noticed. Not that Emma would have wanted the attention, being the new kid was something she had been dreading ever since her father had gotten the news that the company he worked for was expanding. Her father, along with a few others, was asked to pack up his family and move to the opposite side of the country. But still, just because she didn't want the attention didn't mean that Emma wasn't slightly saddened by the fact that Allison had been welcomed with such enthusiasm while she just kind of stood there and stared, completely unnoticed by the small town of Beacon Hills. For Emma, it sucked to see Allison sitting with friends during lunch on her first day of school while she just sat by herself, waiting for an invitation to join somebody's group, but that invitation never came. It hurt to be entirely disregarded, even if that was her original intention. So now here she was, three days before the start of her junior year, completely friendless and hoping that maybe Stiles was up for a new buddy.

"Tell me about it," Stiles smiled, eyes roaming over Emma's crossword puzzle as if he were looking for something in particular, "Oh look," he leaned over and pointed to a random spot, "Four letter word for moron, Sean should fit perfectly."

She found herself laughing for what felt like the millionth time that day, "Ten bucks says he spits in your coffee."

Stiles shook his head and gave her a smile. Emma decided then that she liked him much better when he smiled. At school he'd always looked so… bothered. He had this anxious air about him, like he was always worried or concerned about something, but covered it up well with his sly remarks and sarcastic smirks. If not for the dark circles under his eyes one almost wouldn't have been able to tell how truly and utterly tired he was. Honestly, he'd always seemed like he could of just lied down and slept for days at any given moment. But when he smiled, it was like all that went away and the bags under his eyes didn't seem as dark anymore. So yes, Emma concluded, smiling definitely looked good on him.

"I know right?" Stiles huffed, bringing Emma out of her thoughts, "All that work and now I cant even drink it."

"Why are you ordering a coffee at six in the afternoon anyways?" Emma asked, less out of curiosity and more because she wanted to keep the conversation going. She had promised her mom, and herself for that matter, that she would try to make at least one friend this year. To her, Stiles seemed like the perfect candidate. From what she'd heard through the grapevine, Stiles was a pretty great guy. And he seemed well liked for somebody that was on the lower half of the social latter, not that she cared what his popularity status was, seeing as she was about as unpopular as one could get. Plus, she'd always been attracted to funny, and that was definitely a category Stiles fell under. He was attractive too, especially with his hair having grown out over the summer, which would definitely make her mom happy. Emma's mom was obsessed with the idea of her making friends. Emma didn't blame her though, what mother wouldn't want to see their child happy? She had been really worried about the move; she hated the idea of Emma having to move away from all of her friends. But in all honesty, Emma didn't really have all that many friends there anyways. She talked to people sure, but she didn't _really _talk to people, if that makes sense. If anything, she was happy about the move, she liked the idea of being able to start over, make a new name for herself. It didn't pan out exactly as she hoped it would have, but the idea of it was still good.

"I could ask you the same thing," Stiles joked. He reached over to flick her coffee mug as if to prove his point, then seemed to instantly regret that decision as he shook his hand up and down like somebody in pain would do.

"Smooth," Emma laughed and Stiles pulled a face, glaring playfully before joining her in the laugh, "but anyways," she said, "I actually have an excuse for my odd coffee timing."

"Oh, do you now?" he began to tap his chin with his fingers in a way that indicated he was thinking hard about something, but Emma figured it was de more to his hyperactive behavior rather than helping his ability to think, "Please, do share."

"Oh, I'm not going to tell you." She replied before taking a big sip of her coffee.

"What?" he immediately dropped his smile, "Come on. Don't leave me hangin'."

"Sorry," Emma said in a voice that was far from apologetic, "it's a secret." She informed him, shrugging as if to say there was nothing she could do about it.

"Alright then," he chuckled and Emma hoped that he enjoyed talking to her just as much as she liked talking to him. It was nice having a conversation with somebody outside of her family, even if it was about absolutely nothing, "Is, uh, is your name a secret too?"

The question caused her to blush slightly and all she could do was hope that he didn't notice. But even if he wasn't aware of that, she knew there was no way in hell that he missed the ridiculously big smile that stretched across her face. It was embarrassing to say the least, even if she did have a nice smile: and that wasn't her being narcissistic, that was just taking into account two long and awkward years of braces.

"Yeah," She said, before rethinking his question and quickly changing her answer, "I mean no!" She swears she could have slapped herself for being so awkward if that wouldn't have made the situation even more awkward.

"Well," He laughed, not seeming to be phased one bit by her awkward slip up, "Which is it?"

She sighed in relief, her blush disappearing by the second, "Yes I have a name, and no it's not a secret."

"Well, lets hear it then," he said in a 'not taking no for an answer' kind of voice.

"Emma wheeler," She said with a nod before doing something that, from the moment she did it, she was sure she would regret for the rest of her life. Something that, in her opinion, was so insanely awkward and weird there was no way she would ever live it down. Something that was so mortifying she debated just jumping up and hightailing it out of there. She stuck out her hand; she stuck out her freaking hand. Right there in his face, definitely close enough for him to smell her fingers if he wanted to, which she was sure he didn't. It wasn't so much that the act of shaking someone's hand was bad, it was more with the way she went about it. Her hand was literally right there in front of his face and the angle was so strange that it would be nearly impossible for him to shake her hand properly. So there she was, hand floating in the air, just waiting to be shook. There was just no coming back from that, it had already been there to long for her to play if off as anything other than a handshake. And he wasn't shaking it; he was just staring at her hand, cross-eyed do to the proximity, like he didn't know what to do with it. He looked like he was stuck between confusion and amusement and all Emma wanted to do was go home. She looked around, planning an exit strategy, trying to come up with the fastest possible route out of there until finally, and much to her surprise, she felt a hand slide into hers.

It was a brief handshake and it was over far more quickly than it started, but it still happened. And there was no taking it back; she had just initiated the most painfully awkward handshake known to man. _So much for making a new friend _she thought to herself sarcastically.

After a few moments of internal punishment, in which Emma mental gave herself a good beating, she decided it was time to move on. Forget the moment ever happened and salvage what was left of what she was sure would become a slowly dwindling conversation. She figured, no _hoped_, that that was as bad as it was going to get and any other commentary would be nothing short of pleasant and enjoyable. But is that what happened? Nope, it all went downhill from there.

"Stiles Stilinski," He introduced himself quickly, probably wanting to move past the moment just as much as she did.

"Oh, I know," Emma said casually before freezing on the spot. She widened her eyes and had to physically hold her hand down to keep from slapping it over her mouth. She could not believe she said that, she had always promised herself she would never say that.

Stiles looked at her weirdly, entirely taken aback by her answer, and she couldn't blame him. 'Oh I know' she thought to herself angrily, 'Who even says that? Creepers, that's who.'

"I… you know?" He asked, seemingly surprised that she would have any idea who he was. Which led her to believe that he had no idea that she even went to the same school as him, much less sat behind him for an entire year.

"Oh God, that sounded creepy." Emma said, wishing she could just take it back, "It's not creepy, I swear. I just, I sat behind you in Mr. Harris' class."

Stiles gave her a surprised look, wide eyes and all, "Oh you go to Beacon?"… and there it was. Suspicions confirmed. He had absolutely no idea who she was. If she was being honest with herself, she didn't really expect him to, but still, a girl can hope.

"I—yeah, since like last year," Emma mumbled, coming to terms with the fact that this was going to be one of the most awkward conversations of her life, and she might as well just suck it up and get it over with. Of course the first time she had any sort of interaction with somebody from her school he wouldn't have any idea who she was; just her luck, really.

She was hoping he would just leave it at that, quit while they were behind and change the topic, if not just stop conversing all together, but no such luck, "God, I'm sorry. I didn't even, I can't believe I never even noticed you."

"Ouch," She brought a hand up to her chest to cover her heart, hoping she could just play it off as something that didn't really have much of an affect on her. It did, but he didn't have to know that.

Her plan, unsurprisingly, didn't seem to be working out so well. Apparently dropping a subject wasn't something he did very well, "No, God, I'm sorry, I just, I feel like such an asshole. How could I not of- you, you sat right behind me?"

"Yep, all year." Great. Now not only did she act completely awkward and make herself out to be a total loser, but she just had to go on and add making him feel guilty to the list, "Well, not _all _year," She added quickly, "It was like two or three weeks into the year, you know, when Mr. Harris moved you away from Scott?"

"No bullshit?" He asked, pulling his chair up to her table while shooting her a quizzical look.

Emma shook her head, a defeated look more than likely overtaking her features, "Completely lacking all bullshit."

"But you're beautiful!"

For a moment Emma thought she'd heard him wrong, thought there was no possible way that he had just said what she thought he did, but one look at his face and the blush told her everything. Stiles Stilinski had just called her beautiful. But it was the way he said it that really got to her. You know, not in the flirty, want to get in your pants kind of way. He said it in a way that one would tell you the sky is blue or the grass is green; as if it were, quite simply stated, a fact. She knew she was probably blushing just as much as, if not more than, him.

"I uh…thank you," She said, almost cautiously. She wasn't used to being called beautiful, especially by an almost stranger. She was a pretty average looking person; brown hair, 5'7'', pale skin. The only part of her that was even remotely interesting were her eyes, and even then blue eyes seemed to be highly overrated nowadays, especially seeing as how you can pretty much just buy any eye color you want now, what with colored eye contacts.

"Sorry, I just find it, uh, you know, hard to believe that I wouldn't have, um, like, noticed you there, for a whole year, when you look like…that." He said, eyebrows scrunching together by the end of his sentence. His words were stuttered and stammered and he was twitchier than she had ever seen him, and for some strange reason she found it to be completely and utterly endearing. Plus, and it may sound rude, but his embarrassment definitely made her feel better about the whole conversation, because she then knew that she wasn't the only one who felt uncomfortable.

"Well don't feel to bad," She said, trying to change the topic, more for his sake than her own by that point, "Your not the only one, nobody noticed me really." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them and she just knew it sounded like she was trying to feel sorry for herself.

"Oh God," Stiles dropped his head in his hands, "is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yeah, sorry," She chuckled nervously, "That came out kind of desperate, that wasn't my intention."

"Well, it was definitely the outcome," he stated, pointing a finger at her before laughing slightly, "That has got to be one of the most awkward conversations I've ever had."

Emma laughed too, slowly beginning to feel at ease again, "Painful wasn't it?" She said with a shake of her head.

"Oh God, the worst," he supplied, "and don't even get me started on that handshake thing." Emma nodded in agreement and just as she was about to suggest that they maybe transfer to a new, slightly less awkward subject, Sean walked up, a cup of steaming coffee held firmly in his hands.

"One cup of black coffee. No cream, no sugar." He said, slamming it down so hard onto the table Emma wouldn't have been surprised if the mug had shattered to bits. He stood there for a few moments, turning the recently founded ordinary atmosphere back into all out awkwardness. Emma glanced at Stiles, who glanced back at her before they both proceeded to stare at Sean. "Well, go on. Take a sip." He said, motioning toward the mug almost violently.

"Nah, I think, uh, I think I'm good for right now," Stiles said, which was a smart move in Emma's opinion. Sean was definitely acting fishy.

Before she even had time to blink, Sean had banged his hands down on the table and brought his face way to close to Stiles', "Who the _fuck _orders coffee at this time anyways, huh?" he asked, baring his teeth. Emma wouldn't have been surprised if he started growling, "It's six o'clock man, six o'clock," he brought his fist up, motioning it in a way that made it seem like he was about to punch somebody, before thinking better of it. Instead, he brought his index finger out and started pointing it between Stiles and Emma, "You two," he continued, "you two are weirdos," he whispered it in a way that Emma assumed was supposed to be menacing, "fucking weirdos. Nobody orders coffee at six o'clock." He then turned his attention completely towards Emma, "And what's with the fucking crossword puzzle? Huh? Nobody does crossword puzzles anymore. Who are you trying to impress? Huh? Huh? Because nobody's impressed, sure as hell not me!" Emma's eyes were wide by the end of his rant. She spared Stiles a glance to see that he had the same reaction as her. They both watched as Sean stormed off into the kitchen before immediately turning towards each other. Stiles opened and closed his mouth a few times, seemingly incapable of forming words at the moment.

"Did that really just…" he trailed off, pointing to the spot where Sean had only moments ago been standing.

"Yeah, I think it did," She said, folding up her crossword puzzle and putting it away. Emma had to agree that he was kind of right about that part. Nobody ever really did crossword puzzles anymore. She'd always taken pride in being her own person and doing her own thing but at that moment she just felt really lame, and kind of sad. She was definitely going to need another cup of coffee, that's for sure.

At the thought of coffee, she looked over and pointed to the mug sitting in front of Stiles, "Don't drink that."

Stiles waved her off, a look of disgust on his face, "Yeah I can practically sense the spit."

Emma shook her head, once again looking at the spot Sean had been standing in, "I still cant believe-"

"Yeah, that was weird right? Like not just kind of weird but weird weird."

"Weirder than ordering coffee at six o'clock, that's for sure." She nodded, causing Stiles to snort. She would have been proud of her ability to make him laugh had it not been for the fact that she was still in a state of shock.

They sat in silence for a few moments, Emma fiddling with the rips in her jean shorts while Stiles closely examined his coffee, "Hey, I dare you to take a swig of this."

Emma snapped her eyes away from her shorts and shot Stiles a perplexed look, "Why would I do that?"

Stiles shrugged, "Fine, I double dare you." He then proceeded to slide the mug towards her, smirking all the while.

"I'm not drinking that!" Emma laughed, "Besides, I have my own coffee." And as if to prove her point, she brought her mug up to her lips, planning on taking a big sip. Although, no matter how far back she tilted the cup, no coffee seemed to emit. She brought it down in front of her and glanced inside, trying to be as discreet as possible, and was surprised to find that her mug was completely empty, void of all coffee. She hadn't even remembered drinking it.

Stiles looked on with amusement, "No, actually, you don't." He pointed out, holding in a laugh. Emma blushed slightly and crossed her arms, then proceeded to glare at her coffee mug for good measure, "Besides, this isn't about the coffee. It's about bravery, come on, show me what you're made of!"

"How about you show me what you're made of." Emma suggested, raising one eyebrow and using her pointer finger to slide the mug back towards Stiles.

"No, no way," Stiles shook his head and copied Emma's actions, the cup once again resting in front of her, "I'm already brave. Don't need to drink that to prove it."

"Alright," She said with an over exaggerated eye roll, "whatever you say, tough guy."

"Hey, I'm plenty brave!" Stiles defended, shooting Emma a mock glare.

"Then prove it."

"I don't need to prove it. I'm brave, end of story." He said, arms crossed over his chest.

"Mhm, Sure you are." Emma said patronizingly.

Stiles gasped in an offended sort of way, "I'm serious!" he shouted quietly, looking thoroughly un-amused until his facial expression changed from one of offense to an almost arrogant smirk. Emma narrowed her eyes, waiting to see what caused the change in attitude, "I had a run in with a werewolf once, totally took him out. I'm sure you read about it in the papers."

Emma laughed slightly, snapping her fingers a few times before pointing at him, "Oh. Yeah, yeah, yeah! I did read that, it was right under the 'you're full of shit' column, right?" She asked, her face taking on the appearance of somebody who was thoroughly impressed.

"Yeah," Stiles said through a laugh, "yeah, that's the one. You could say I was a pretty big deal there for a while."

"Oh the biggest," Emma agreed, nodding her head a few times, "We even threw a party in your honor."

"Oh, wow, a party?" He asked with raised eyebrows, "I guess my invitation got lost in the mail."

"No, you just weren't invited." She supplied, taking a sip of her coffee, only to remember it was empty.

"Wha-what?" Stiles' mouth dropped open, "How could you not invite me? I should have been the guest of honor! We're talking my name up in lights here." He said, his arms branching out in a manner that Emma assumed was supposed to indicate his 'name up in lights.'

"Yeah, well, I was fresh out of medals," She shrugged with a nonchalant wave of the hand.

"Well, you know what? I wouldn't have gone anyways so…yeah."

Emma rolled her eyes in amusement before deciding to change the subject, "Well now that that's sorted out," she sighed, "lets talk about the real issue at hand."

Stiles scrunched his eyebrows, "And what would that be?" he asked, not even bothering to hide his confusion.

"The tip, of course," She stated as if were the most obvious thing in the world, "How much are you going to leave 'Psycho Sean'?"

"Eh, twenty percent," He offered, much to Emma's surprise. Stiles seemed to have noticed her taken aback expression and explained, "What? He was entertaining and I was sort of an asshole."

"Yes, but you were a _justified_ asshole, there's a difference." She pointed out with a smile.

"Ah, but an asshole is an asshole, no matter the context," He replied wisely and Emma nodded in reluctant agreement, "Plus, haven't you ever heard that quote? How does it go again?" he asked snapping his fingers a couple times as if it would help him remember, "Something like… oh yeah, something like 'if someone's nice to you but not nice to the waiter they're not a nice person' or something along those lines. I cant really remember but I'm sure that was the gist of it."

"No," Emma shook her head with a smile, "Never heard of it. But I think I might like it, if ever a situation presents itself where this quote may come in handy, do I have permission to borrow?"

"Of course," Stiles replied with a nod, "And it makes sense right? And like, now that you've heard this quote, I'd hate to think that your opinion of me will change do to my momentary lapse in social etiquette."

"Eh, I don't know. I think I may be a little on the fence now."

"See, I knew this would happen!" Stiles shouted a little to loudly, momentarily gaining the attention of the few people scattered around the coffee shop. Emma blushed at the small amount of attention and was thankful when, after a few seconds, they lost interest and turned away, "Which brings us back to the topic at hand, would a generous tip qualify as redemption?"

"Yeah, I think it might," Emma laughed, just as Stiles' phone went off.

"Hold that thought," He said apologetically as he held up one finger to her. She watched as his hand instantly flew to his pocket and dug out his phone, quickly hitting the 'answer' button and pressing it to his ear, "What, Scott? … Okay, yeah, that's-… A what? … A tattoo, alright that's great Scott but I'm kind of busy," Emma blushed as Stiles discreetly glanced in her direction as he said he was busy. It made her feel slightly proud that he would be reluctant to leave or talk because he was busy with _her, _"Why do you need me to be there? …" She watched as he listened for a few moments before rolling his eyes, "Okay, I feel like I'm about to be very used… Come on man, you know I-" He began to complain before once again glancing in her direction before sufficiently lowering his voice, "you know I hate needles," He whispered with a blush, "…No, actually, I don't owe you. If anybody owes anybody anything, it's you… alright, down boy… sorry, joke. Just kidding…I'm coming but you owe me, alright? … God, just stop, I said I'm coming didn't I?"

As soon as he said that he pulled the phone away from his ear and hit the end button rather violently. He looked up at Emma and sighed, "Hey, I'm sorry but I kind of have to…"

"Yeah, yeah," Emma waved her hand and nodded understandingly, "I get it. Duty calls." She said with a laugh, trying to cover up her slight disappointment. It had been a long time since she'd had a conversation this long with somebody outside of her family and Stiles just seemed so… _real_. He was cool and quirky and unwittingly endearing and she really liked that. Plus, he took his coffee black. What more could she ask for in a friend? She thought briefly of asking for his number before he left but ultimately decided against it. She didn't think she was brave enough to ask or strong enough to deal with the rejection if things didn't go smoothly. So she just continued to smile and nod as she pulled her wallet out of her purse.

Before she could get it even half way out, a hand covered hers, forcing her to drop her money back inside her bag, "I got it," Stiles said, a nervous smile playing on his lips.

"I-Okay, thank you," Emma stuttered slightly, her expression a reflection of his. She had never had a boy buy her meal before… or in this case, coffee. But still, it was gentleman like all the same.

"O-okay?" he asked, almost as if he were verifying her answer before sighing in relief, "Oh, thank God. Good, good. I thought you were going to argue or look at me weird or something and then things would get all awkward and…stuff…again."

"Nope," Emma said, popping the 'p'.

Stiles smiled as he threw a ten dollar bill onto the middle of the table, "So you, uh, hanging out for a bit or…?" he trailed off, a questioning look on his face.

"Oh, uh, no. I think I'm heading out." She gestured towards the door awkwardly.

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before standing up and nodding his head towards the exit, "I'll, uh, I'll walk you out?" He offered questioningly.

"I think I can walk myself out," Emma joked but stood up nonetheless and fell in step beside him.

"Great," Stiles laughed, "Then you can walk me too."

"It would be my pleasure," She replied, sporting an English accent that she normally would have been embarrassed about, but for some reason felt comfortable breaking it out in front of him.

"Wow, you're actually pretty good at that," He nodded, impressed as he held open the door for her, "The accent, I mean. Not the walking me out."

Emma walked through the door with a laugh, "Thanks for clarifying. I don't think I ever could have figured that one out on my own, Sherlock."

"Hey!" Stiles yelled in mock hurt, following her out, "I just gave you a compliment. All you have to do is say thank you and move on. No smartassery necessary."

"Sorry," Emma apologized through a chuckle, with an added, "Thank you," for good measure.

"Apology accepted and you're welcome," he nodded as they reached his jeep, "So, uh, yeah. Alright, I guess I'll, uh, see you later then. You know… around." He gestured 'around' with his hand.

"Yeah," Emma smiled, "See you later."

And with that, they both stood there and stared at each other. Emma knew she should have walked away instantly after speaking, but she couldn't. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't bring herself to walk away; it was as if her feet had been glued to that particular part of the cement. Stiles, it seemed, was having the same problem; one hand gripped on the door handle of his car, the other tapping nervously against his jean clad thigh. Neither one of them seemed to be able to make the first move, both waiting for the other to speak again or turn away. And Emma knew that this definitely wasn't the 'lost in each other's eyes' kind of moment, it was more so the awkward 'should have walked away when I had the chance' kind of thing; and she would bet anything that Stiles felt just as uncomfortable as she did. Why couldn't she have just turned around and went home like a normal person? Why couldn't she ever just make things easy for herself? And it may not seem like such a terrible situation, but for Emma, it was one of the most awkward moments of her life. Here she was, staring at Stiles, a guy she just met, neither one of them having any idea what to say or do… and she was pretty sure she was about to sneeze at any moment. God knows that would be embarrassing.

It seemed like Stiles was caught between his insistent tapping and shoving his hands deep in his pocket; in the end, the former beat out the latter. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and for a moment Emma thought that it would all be over soon; she waited impatiently as he struggled to emit sound. But fate, it seemed, was against them, for the words ultimately died on Stiles' tongue, never to be heard. All Emma wanted to do was drop her head in her hands and sigh in frustration. She wanted more than anything to break the silence, but couldn't. For one thing, she had already said 'see you later', meaning it wasn't her turn to talk yet, and even if it were, she would have no idea what to even say. For another, she was afraid she really would sneeze if she even tried to open her mouth. She wouldn't be surprised if she started twitching at any moment, she had always had trouble acting normal when she was nervous.

Emma had just about reached her breaking point when Stiles let out an awkward cough. She sighed in relief as the tension slowly – very, very slowly – began to fade away, "Are we supposed to like hug or something?" he finally let out with furrowed eyebrows.

"I – I don't know…" Emma stuttered with wide eyes, almost positive that _that _scenario would not ease away any of the uncomfortable atmosphere. She worried for a moment that her lack of eliciting an actual response would once again set them off into the depths of awkward silence, but Stiles seemed to carry on as if she hadn't even spoken.

"…Because just walking away is out of the question, we've waited to long for that to even be an option anymore. Thanks for that by the way," He said the last part while pointing an accusatory finger at her. Emma rolled her eyes, about to go on about how it was just as much his fault as it was hers, but Stiles never gave her the chance, "And God knows I'm never shaking you're hand again; I mean, seriously, what was that? I'll tell you what it was. Awful, that was just awful… ugh," he shuddered over dramatically, "it makes me feel awkward just to think about it. Again, your fault," she nodded in agreement that time, taking full responsibility for her momentary lapse in social skills. "So honestly, I feel like a hug is our only option. You know, if you're up for it… which you're probably not. Because it would honestly probably just make things worse… and I'm probably an idiot. No, okay, definitely an idiot. I'm an idiot…" He rambled, using so many hand gestures Emma could hardly keep up. She debated just walking away in the middle of his awkward speech, but decided against it; she figured that would be just rude. So that left her with one option.

"Alright," She nodded, at that point willing to do absolutely anything to get this moment over with; besides, hugging Stiles was hardly the worst thing she could imagine.

"Alright?" His hands paused in the air and he seemed slightly taken aback, but soon he began nodding and his arms slowly made it back to his side, "Alright. Yeah… yeah. Okay. Alright. Let's do this shit."

"Alright," Emma laughed, not sure whether or not she was still uncomfortable.

"Alright," Stiles repeated, nodding his head almost robotically.

"Well, get on with it," Emma said, gesturing at the space between the two of them.

"Wha…? Oh, me… get on with it. The hugging… so you wa – me?" He stuttered out before pointing to himself.

"Well, yeah," Emma stated, not making any attempt at moving, "It was your suggestion, so it's your job to initiate it. Be, like, a gentleman."

"Uh, right. Yeah." Stiles hesitated for a moment before stepping forward and opening his arms wide. He quickly wrapped his arms around Emma, engulfing her so that her arms were trapped at her sides. She tried to stay as still as possible, counting down the seconds in her head.

Stiles made a sound of frustration and Emma would have jumped had it not been from the arms that trapped her, "Oh God, this was a horrible idea," Stiles said as he patted her back in discomfort.

"Agreed," Emma nodded, causing her face to rub against his shirt, making it itch uncontrollably. After trying – and failing – to extract her arms from his embrace, she settled for scrunching her nose repeatedly, hoping that would ease the itching until she once again gained access to her hands.

"Sooo…" She drawled out, "How long do you think would be a sufficient amount of time, like, when does this hug end?"

"Uh, now sounds good, I guess. Yeah, probably now," Stiles suggested hurriedly, "I vote now. Now seems like a very good time to make that happen."

"Yes. Okay, good." Emma agreed, waiting for his arms to slacken, "… So if you could just let go of me that would be great. So we could, you know, make that happen."

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm letting go. This is me… letting go," Stiles stammered out as he abruptly ended his hold on her. Emma immediately reached up to scratch her nose.

They were entering the early stages of yet again another awkward silence, when she spoke up, "Yeah, well, you totally just topped my handshake."

"Oh, no doubt about it!" Stiles laughed in relief, "I win, hands down."

"I not sure if that's a competition you should be happy about winning," Emma pointed out with a smile.

"Hey, I'll take what I can get," He shrugged before opening the door to his jeep, "So, lets try this again… I'll see you around, Emma Wheeler."

"Definitely," Emma nodded, "See you around, Stiles Stilinski."

Stiles smiled at her before taking on a serious expression, "Now leave." He ordered and Emma laughed slightly as she began to spin on her heel, "Seriously, get out of here. We are not doing that again."

With one last smile, Stiles jumped in his jeep and drove off, leaving Emma to think about her very… interesting afternoon as she walked home. She really hoped that her and Stiles could become friends someday. He was a great conversationalist, that was for sure. Plus, he made her laugh, and she liked to laugh; laughing was her favorite. And she knew that her mom would just love him; not to mention how ecstatic her dad would be when he found out that she met a boy that takes his coffee black. Well… maybe not _ecstatic, _but it would definitely warm him up to the idea. Not that Emma thought her and Stiles would become more than just friends, they had only met not even twenty minutes ago. She just knew the way her dad thought, and she figured that if there were any boy her dad would approve of her hanging out with – kissing or no kissing – it would be one that took his coffee black.

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**A/N: So this is an idea that has been nagging me for a while. I really wanted to do something with an OC who knows nothing about the supernatural and wasn't best friends with Scott and Stiles or anything like that. I just wanted to post the first chapter and see what you guys thought of it! Not sure whether or not to continue, I really like the idea but I just want to make sure people will read it! So give me some feedback and let me know what you guys think and if I should continue or not. I hope you like it :)... also the conversation between Stiles and the waiter was inspired by a great comedian, Brian Reagan, check him out!**


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